Thursday, November 15, 2007

I've been noticing an upsetting trend on the social scene, and I thought I should let you know about it (I am sure it doesn't apply to you).

As you know, there is a dating ritual that involves asking for someone's phone number, should you find yourself interested in a certain someone. Now, I know technology is advancing at a rapid pace (some of us remember a time before mobile phones), and it is hard to keep tabs on when to use what device, and in what fashion (hello, phones vibrate). So, keeping this veritable mine field of inappropriateness in mind, I am not quick to judge technology offenders, however, as I said, a trend has emerged that must be checked.

Here's the deal: "Boy" flirts with me on any given Friday night. Fine. I am as loyal to you as a laborador puppy, but a girl must flirt. And because I am lovely (all my girlfriends say so), Boy asks for my telephone number. I may or may not be interested, but I am polite, and I give Boy a phone number (heavy emphasis on "a"). Herein lies the problem: Boy tests the phone number. He actually puts it in his phone and presses send!!

Husband, this is so uncool. Here's why: if in fact I have fudged, making the last 7 an 8, I am really doing us both a favor by not rejecting Boy openly and to his face. He makes us both look bad by testing the phone number I have given. And, by testing it, if I have given the right number, he is certain to instantly join my screen list.

So, Husband, spread the word with all your iphone carrying friends: I don't care if you can create a new republic in the South Pacific with the touch of a button, don't test me.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

In an effort to fully prepare you for our meeting, I thought I should brief you on things I dislike. This list includes, but is not limited to:

- girls who work out with their hair down- Blink 182-esque music- those Dr. Phil commercials for Match.com- financially-dependent-women who say things like "I'm an independent woman" (um, no you're not)- people who just can't order off the menu - must have super secret unattainable dish that is so good the chef didn't even think of it- guys who slam down weights at the gym (if it's *really* that heavy...maybe you shouldn't lift it Hercules)- indecisiveness- heavy breathers (seriously, are you okay?)- slow walkers- unobservant drivers (what lane are you in, and hello by the way, i'm here)

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

I would say I miss you, but I am honestly only writing you now because I am trying desperately not to check my work email. Because I hate my job. But I am also an overachiever. You probably have a blackberry, Husband, and so do not have this particular problem because you have a tiny alarm going off all of the time so you can't not know when you have work email.

Although, I guess if you want to know the whole truth, I am sitting here in front of my computer trying not to check my work email because I am also trying not to dwell on the fact that my yucky ex-boyfriend keeps calling me.

Husband, would you come find me already? Then I could quit my job and you could beat up my ex-boyfriend.

Friday, November 2, 2007

I am not feeling very much like my witty, chipper self today. I am not going to lie. I realize we don't know each other well enough for me to get all, "what does it all mean," on you, but I can't help it.

I took my adorable pooch out for our nightly walk last night (you'll totally heart her). As usual, I was bundled in sweats and an old knit cap stolen from my last would-be-husband, hearing the sounds of Thursday night revelers a block or so away, and I noticed a star that I haven't seen before. Now, this is not what you think. I am not a wishing on stars sort of girl (wink).

What was unusual about this star was how desperately far away it seemed. I live smack in the middle of a big old lonely city, and the only stars that can shine through all the haze are two or three really big stars that are low on the horizon (I think they might be planets, but science is not really my thing).

This star just seemed really out of place and a million miles away. I almost said to it, "But I am never going to get there!" To which it sat silent and mocking.

So, I am just going to be brutally honest. You seem really far away, Husband, so far, in fact, that today I really feel like I am never going to find you.

About Me

One day, Dear Single was walking down the street of her lonely neighborhood in her lonely city. Sick of waiting for her husband, and having apparently no say in the critical matter of when exactly he planned to pop into her life, she suddenly said aloud, "Where are you, Husband?"
Even though she was surprised by her outburst, she did in fact feel relieved. She decided to make it a daily exercise in maintaining her, err sanity. And thus, Dear Husband began.
Dear Single is on a quest for a happy home with a tall dark and handsome Someone who has skillfully avoided her for years, shape-shifting into boyfriends and then disappearing behind a stranger on the bus, only to vanish again as quickly as he appeared.
So, from the farthest outer reaches of normal behavior, Dear Single is reaching into the void to talk her Someone who doesn't yet exist… but certain that someday soon, He will.